Crying had sent her headache piercing through the backs of her eyes and she knew, she just knew the tree thing was in the cave shuffling toward her. She pictured that big stare and the gnarled mouth with all the crooked teeth and glistening drool.
Aria grabbed the knife and darted outside.
Silence. She sniffed and looked around. No tree people. Nothing but the woods. The cave loomed behind her. She was not going back in there.
She picked her way down the slope, overly aware of the knife in her hand. She found the berry bush without any trouble. Smiling, she stuffed as many berries into her cargo pockets as she could and then made a bowl with her shirt.
She imagined what the Outsider would say when he saw them. It would be one word, no doubt. But he’d see she could do better than stay. Aria hurried back uphill, deciding she’d take control over what she could. She was tired of being useless.
She hadn’t been gone more than half an hour, she guessed, but darkness was falling fast. She smelled the smoke first and then saw a pale column up ahead, against the deepening blue sky. The Outsider had returned. She almost called out to him, wanting to brag about her berries. She decided to surprise him instead.
Aria came to a dead stop a few feet away from the cave. Smoke tumbled from the top of the wide mouth like a waterfall pouring upward. Several male voices spoke inside. She didn’t recognize any of them. She backed away as quietly as she could, her heart thundering in her chest. With her ringing ears, she couldn’t tell how much noise she made. She found out when three figures emerged from the cave.
By the failing light, she saw that one man, the tallest, wore a black cape, the hood pulled over a mask with a long, crowlike beak. He held a pale staff with bits of rope and feathers dangling from the top. He stayed by the cave as two other men came toward her.
“Rat . . . is that a Dweller?” said one.
“It is indeed,” answered the other. He was slight and bald, with a large pointed nose that left little doubt as to the origin of his name. “You’re well gone from home, en’t you, girl?”
She heard jingling. Aria’s gaze snapped to Rat’s waist. Bells hung from his belt, winking in the dim light. They trilled with each step he took.
“Stop there.” She remembered she had a knife. She went to raise it, and saw that she already held it in front of her. Aria raised it higher. “Don’t come any closer.”
Rat grinned, showing teeth that looked like they’d been filed to points. “Easy, girl. We’re not going to hurt ya. Are we, Trip?”
“No, we won’t hurt you,” said Trip. He had intricate tattoos around his eyes, like embroidery. Like something she might see in a Masquerade Realm. “I never thought I’d see a Mole.”
“Not alive,” said Rat. “What’re you doing out here, girl?”
Aria’s gaze flicked to the crow man, who’d begun to come forward, moving with total silence. As frightened as she was of Rat and Trip, the crow man scared her more. Rat and Trip went still as he approached.
The crow man stood well over six feet tall. He had to look down to see her. The mask was terrifying, the beak angular and pointed, made of leather that had been pulled and stretched over a frame. The smooth parts were the color of skin, but a dirty inky color stained the creases. She could see his eyes through the holes in the mask. They were blue and clear as glass.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Aria.” She answered because there was no way she couldn’t.
“Where are you heading, Aria?”
“Home.”
“Of course.” The crow man tipped his head to the side. “I’m sorry. This must frighten you.” He removed the mask, letting it hang by a leather cord that he twisted so it fell over his back. He was younger than she expected. Only a few years older than she was, with dark hair and those clear blue eyes. She realized how much calmer she felt now that she could see his face.
He smiled. “That helped, didn’t it? My people bring in the night with ceremony. We use masks to scare off spirits of darkness. My friends aren’t initiated yet, or they’d be wearing them too. I’m called Harris. It’s good to meet you, Aria.”
His voice was a beautiful, smoky baritone. He sent Trip and Rat a pointed look.
“Yes. Good to meet you,” they said, tipping their heads and setting the bells ringing again.
“Bells are another part of our ceremony,” Harris said, following her gaze.
“Ancient cultures used bells,” she said, hating herself for knowing stupid things and for not being able to keep quiet when she was nervous.
“I’ve heard that Tibetans did.”
“Yes. They did.” Aria couldn’t believe he knew that. A Savage who knew more than just digging holes and starting fires. A spark of hope lit inside her. “They believed bells represented the wisdom of emptiness.”
“I’ve known a few people with empty minds, but I wouldn’t call them wise.” Harris smiled, his eyes flicking to Trip. “To us, bells are noises of lightness and good. Are you alone, Aria?”
“No. I’m with an Outsider.”
It was darker now, but by the soft light of the Aether, she saw his eyebrows furrow.
“I meant one of you,” she said, realizing they wouldn’t call themselves Outsiders.
“Ah . . . that’s good. This is dangerous land. I’m sure your companion told you.”
“Yes. He did.”
Trip snorted. “Nearly soiled myself when I heard you sneaking up on us.”
Rat lifted his big nose and sniffed the air. He shoved Trip in the shoulder. “Nearly?”